


Imperfection

by weakinteraction



Category: Alien (Prequel Movies)
Genre: Canon-typical levels of Biology accuracy, Gen, References to Christianity in an SF context, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 10:20:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/pseuds/weakinteraction
Summary: Billions of years of waiting for perfection, thwarted.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: Worldbuilding Exchange 2020





	Imperfection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [M J Holyoke (wholeyolk)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wholeyolk/gifts).



_The sacrifice gazes out at the world._

_It is complex in its way, as any world of this type, its current state the result of the long interplay of eons of geology and biology, punctuated by the occasional cosmic event -- the flux from a distant gamma ray burst, bombardments by planetoids._

_But it is not complex_ enough _. The life brimming in its oceans, spilling out the oxygen he is breathing, is unicellular, barely differentiated._

_He looks up, just for a moment, to watch his compatriots depart for high orbit. They will wait in cryosleep, automated systems watching for signs that the experiment has come to fruition._

_Is there a moment of regret, that he will not be there with them? No. For although his consciousness will end here, he will become the experiment itself, his genetic material transformed by molecular alchemy into the seeds of this world's new form of existence._

_He ingests the universal solvent, and dives into the waterfall._

* * *

The giant ellipsoidal starship waits, and watches, the slow work of its self-repair systems battling the endless buffeting of the solar wind, and entropy itself, the only real internal sign that time is passing.

Its makers/pilots/crewmembers/symbiotes have designed it, as everything else, to be as close to perfection as they can achieve. The mind of the ship, if it can be said to have one, does not so much _understand_ their philosophy, as express it. Turning away long ago from a conviction in the perfection of the universe as it exists, they have sought to create the perfection that it lacks. Starting with the remaking of their own bodies at the subcellular level, and on through all their technologies, they have striven to make themselves functionally immortal, and much more besides. And it does not end there -- throughout the universe, they have sought out that which exists and remade it. Its holds are full of raw materials, of experiments in slow progress. Worldtrees -- photosynthetic life-forms three times more efficient than anything naturally evolved. Vacuum creatures that can tack their enormous sail-like appendages against the currents of the interstellar medium, and hear the neutrinos sleeting through them. Extremophile bacteria that can survive almost any environment. And specimens that might one day become the perfect predator, using their prey as hosts to spawn more of themselves.

All of them must wait their turn, though. There are many epochs left for all these things to pass and, for now, the planet below is the focus of attention. The ship is not designed to understand the experiment in progress, but its astrogation subroutines track over eight orbits of the distant galactic core before any of the awakening conditions are triggered. The crew rise from their slumber, examine the progress of their work, but after only a millennium or so return to it.

Two galactic orbits later, the new awakening conditions they set are met. Reviewing the logs of the intervening time in a data-trance, one of the crew regrets missing the era of the giant saurian forms. But the others are far more interested in the bipedal creatures that have begun to emerge, still only pale reflections of their sacrificed colleague, but groping towards the pattern that was designed.

Suddenly, but inevitably, the ship finds its long-dormant drive systems pressed into service, and it responds, joyfully, pleased at being able to respond so perfectly after so long.

* * *

The hominid has a rudimentary sense of self, but -- just like all of her extended family group -- does not have anything resembling a name. Most of the others distinguish her by the broad red stripe in the fur on her head. Her reputation amongst them is of a shrewd sort of kindness -- she will groom you, and feed you, if you deal fairly with her, but cross her and she will shun you forever.

Red Stripe has been foraging alone all day, and the sun is setting. It is time to return to the others in the Home Tree; to be at ground level during night time is dangerous.

As she lollops back, gait alternating between walking on her hind legs and sprinting on all fours, something happens to the sky. Red Stripe has seen many thunderstorms in her years, but although clouds boil into existence rapidly, she knows that this is not that. There is a _something_ at the heart of this, like a giant stone that could be hurled or knapped into a crude axe, if anyone were large enough to do so. But somehow this stone floats in the air, rather than falling to the ground.

And then, before her, stands someone who perhaps could be: a pale giant whose eyes seem to suggest infinity. The awe Red Stripe feels is unlike anything that has ever been experienced on this planet before. Her crude theory of mind wants to attribute intentionality to this creature, to feel as though it is kin to her, somehow, even while she recognises that it is something utterly beyond her experience.

If she were to return to the Tree and gesture to the others of what she has seen, she might perhaps have been the founder of the world's first religion.

She will not get the chance. She has been selected as a specimen, and the nanoscopic preservatives are already doing their work.

* * *

The sample joins many others collected over the years in the cavernous archives of the ship, and the crew return to cryosleep. Before they do so, though, they transmit a message; perhaps, in retrospect, it is over-eager, but they believe that while the experiment is not yet complete, its apotheosis is approaching.

The perfection sought on this world is of an altogether different type than any attempted before by any of the many survey vessels within their current light cone, arguably a perfection that even they themselves are forever incapable of achieving. Their long-ago colleague believed that it would be possible to create the perfect spiritual being, aligned with the numinous, capable of apprehending its place in the universe with complete understanding and acceptance, rather than the desire to perfect it. The changes he had to wreak to his own DNA to achieve this were so extreme that he could not, himself, survive the experience.

But that same DNA has seeded this world, and been recombined time after time after time, in forms slowly approaching the intended design.

The crew goes into cryosleep confident that it will not be for long, this time.

* * *

When they awaken again, the creatures they find have a fully fledged theory of mind, intricate language, and already complex religious structures, albeit focused on the natural phenomena they experience around them.

The crew begin to take an active role, steering their beliefs in the right direction, always leading them to look _upwards_ , at the night sky -- yes, at their own nearest base, but also at the grandeur of the universe as a whole, imperfect as it is. That sense of _oneness_ takes root among some they communicate with, while others remain fixated on the visitors themselves.

After a few millennia, there is great excitement -- they have detected an individual in whom the constant shuffling of DNA strands over all these thousands of millennia has brought together over 99% of the original sacrifice's material. To all intents and purposes, a reincarnation.

There is a heated debate about the best approach to take. After some initial unsanctioned actions by a few members of the crew, a hands-off approach is decided upon. They will let this creature bring the message to the rest of the species, for surely they will recognise the perfection that he represents, and from this point, the experiment will enter a whole new phase.

From orbit, they watch eagerly to see what will happen. A few decades is only the blink of an eye against the long time the experiment has been running.

* * *

_The sacrifice gazes out at the world._

_In his own way, limited by his cultural context, he understands the deep history he is part of. He has tried to communicate that understanding to others, and some have listened. But many more have not, and that is why he is here now._

_Part of him, though, on some deep level, understands that he is meant to be the sacrifice. That this is_ right _._

* * *

As far as the crew are concerned, it is _not_ right. If the reborn Sacrifice has been rejected, then the experiment has failed, utterly and completely.

And imperfection cannot be allowed to continue to exist.

They turn to their archives, searching for the tools for the task. The biosphere should be wiped clean of all multicellular life, so the predator-forms are inadequate, their own continued existence on the world after they would have ravaged it merely a further imperfection. A simple pathogen will suffice.

A minority believe the experiment can still be salvaged, and continue to make sporadic contact. Eventually, though, they are dissuaded. When the pathogen breaks free aboard the ship, suspicion falls on them, but in the ensuing crisis the only priority is to escape and return to somewhere that their compatriots can help them regain control.

The experiment that should have been destroyed is, instead, simply abandoned.

And on the planet they left behind, a species that has been designed to seek transcendence, and guided to their destination, begins to make its first faltering steps towards the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic picks up on ideas that didn't make it into the final version of Prometheus that there was some sort of link between Jesus's fate and the Engineers' change of heart about humanity.


End file.
